Aftermath: Finding His Way Again
by NewEnglandFan
Summary: John struggles to recover emotionally after his terrible experiences on Earth. Anger and guilt are not allowing him to heal. Who can help him, if he can't help himself? This is a sequel to "Evil Intent." Please read that first, so you can understand "Aftermath." Thank you!
1. Chapter 1

**Aftermath – Finding His Way Again**

**Chapter 1**

John couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. A primitive terror seeped cold and fast through his chest, paralyzing his throat and sending his heartbeat roaring into his ears. Unknown forces grabbed at his legs and arms. They held on hard and kept him deathly still. Sweat drenched John, sickening in its cold and clammy dampness. He had to-

"John!" Gasping, he rolled over and opened his eyes. Lydia was leaning over him, softly bathed in light from the nightstand. Her pretty red hair formed a tousled curtain around her face, partially obscuring her features but unable to hide her green eyes and the deep concern which filled them. His room, his bed – that's where he was. Not on Earth, not with Nash, not helpless, desperate, and terrified. In the throes of his nightmare John had tossed and turned, twisting the bed linens tight around his legs. He had buried his face deep into the pillow. He had effectively bound and gagged himself, echoing the conditions of his imprisonment and making his awful dream even worse. As he looked up at his lover, his sweat-slicked dark hair was plastered to his neck and face, stark against the paleness of his skin that he couldn't see but which was all too apparent to Lydia.

John slowly sat up and leaned against the headboard, physically and mentally exhausted. Lydia pulled him towards her and he let her, resting his head against her breasts and taking comfort in her steady breathing and murmured assurances. He didn't talk, not about his terrors. She had already witnessed them many times since they had started sleeping together several weeks ago. Their flirting during golf lessons and his unannounced visits to her lab had quickly led to sex, quite gladly on her part, and rather desperately on his. She knew what had happened to him. John had returned to Atlantis a changed and damaged man. Nash's experiment had isolated him, if only for a few days, from virtually all emotional and physical contact with another human being. In its place, he had had only the coerced entanglement of his mind and body with a cold, horrific machine, along with the loss of much of his free will. John was starved for the most basic of human affections and had found in Lydia a warm and caring nature. So far, they expected nothing more from each other than friendship, comfort and sexual release. Jennifer and Carson wanted him to talk to a member of the psychiatric staff but, being stubborn John Sheppard, he wouldn't do it, at least not yet. For now, he wanted to lose himself in his work and in the arms of this beautiful woman. He needed an escape – or, really, the illusion of escape – from the memories, from the shock of what had happened to him and to so many others.

John's stay at SGC after his rescue had been difficult. He was badly injured, sick with fever and too many drugs, and in emotional shock. Relief over being freed and fury over the harm and death that had come to others clashed in his mind. John's memories of those first few days in the infirmary were hazy; he remembered the comings and goings of the doctors and the steady presence of his friends. Mostly, he slept. But as soon as he could make sense of his surroundings, and of himself, he went to the others. Nancy was Nancy Fessler, now a real, flesh and blood woman instead of a vague and terrified presence on the fringes of his mind. She was poor, divorced and lived alone. She had gone to a free clinic and had come under the scrutiny of Nash's blood-testing crusade. Terrence Washington, the man who taken Kevin's place in the chair, had lost his factory job. He had sold blood for some quick cash and, as simple as that, had fallen into Nash's trap. Terrence and Nancy would recover physically but were deeply traumatized psychologically. John had requested, _demanded,_ that SGC provide them with the best care possible, and that they find them new homes and new jobs. John was willing to spend his own money to help, if he had to.

Kevin Louden was a homeless, out of work construction worker. Doctors visiting the shelter he stayed at had drawn blood and then sent it to a lab Nash owned. Kevin had died of a brain aneurysm while attached to the Ancient device. So far, SGC hadn't been able to find any family. But then, that was why Kevin (and Nancy and Terrence, and all of Nash's other 'inventory') had been so valuable – people that supposedly no one cared about, that no one would ever miss.

Nash really should have paid more attention to his own rules when he went after Sheppard.

John had been devastated by what had happened to the businessman and the union official. He hadn't learned about it until after he had been rescued. That surprised him; Nash had destroyed – literally and figuratively – his targets while John was a prisoner. Perhaps he and the others had been too far gone at that point, and Nash hadn't wanted to gloat if they were too sick and drugged to appreciate it.

There was one more victim, so easily forgotten amongst all the others: Lt. Daniels, the soldier in his own command who had kidnapped and delivered him to his tormentors. Nash had murdered him once he had served his purpose. John couldn't yet forgive Daniels for betraying him, and perhaps he never would. But he realized that Nash had played upon the greed and anger of an impressionable young man who might otherwise not have done what he did. And John certainly could not, would not ever take satisfaction in the fact that the lieutenant was now dead.

John felt responsible for so much of what had happened. His friends kept assuring him that it wasn't his fault, that they had all been trapped in an impossible, tragic situation. John wasn't blind to the cold logic of their argument but, with the trauma so painfully fresh, his heart refused to accept it. He knew he had been the crux of Nash's diabolical plan and that the bastard probably couldn't have succeeded without his gene. Because of his physical and mental strength, John had convinced himself that he should have been able to stop him. Never mind that John had been heavily drugged, bound hand and foot, and that others would have died if he dared to fight back. As far as he was concerned, he had failed, and he didn't know how to live with that fact.

Lydia did her best to draw him out of the black moods which still plagued him, weeks after his return. But ultimately, only John could heal himself.

In his restlessness and pain, John had started to take long walks alone at night, wandering Atlantis's seemingly endless corridors. As much as he had needed human contact after he came home, in his most troubled moments he craved solitude. Lydia knew not to follow. John would become lost in the sound of his own footsteps and the soothing sameness of the hallways and rooms. One evening, far from his quarters, he felt himself drawn to a door. He entered…and the room instantly knew him. Consoles came alive, light traced along the floor, and the walls glowed with the gentle blue-green that was Atlantis. Before his time with Nash, John was still amazed at his ability to do such a thing, even after all these years. But now…at times he couldn't bear it. He couldn't reconcile the wonders of his genetic talent with the suffering and death it had caused. And he couldn't escape; the City _always_ knew how to find him.

The place he found that night had ended up being important – a medical lab of some kind. But for all the good it might do, John didn't really care. He had reluctantly told McKay what he had discovered, and then prayed he wouldn't need his help to study it. The thought of touching something unknown, of giving himself over to it, frankly, it scared him to death. Ironically, his fear, the 'fight or flight' response, came from his limbic system, the part of the brain Nash's machine had corrupted in his enemies. John had killed Nash, but he could not yet free himself from the man's evil grip.

_**TBC…**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Aftermath: Finding His Way Again**

**Chapter 2**

"Sheppard!" McKay had spotted him.

Oh, would he _please_ stop doing that?! Lately, John had wanted to jump out of his shoes anytime McKay spoke to him. Rodney talking to you, _at you_, in 'exclamation point-style', usually meant he wanted something, 20 minutes ago, regardless of how much your body language was saying 'please, for the love of God, go away'…..

…..Crap, like what had happened weeks ago. On his way to cheeseburgers and Lydia; he'd been diverted to the lab and…that artifact, instead. What was the military expression: 'never volunteer for anything'? (He obviously hadn't paid attention to _that_ bromide when he agreed to become an intergalactic space explorer.) God, he needed to get a grip on things, but...everything seemed to irritate him so much nowadays; he was angry, frustrated, bored even, which seemed impossible given where he was and what he did for a living. Sometimes, he swore he would chuck it all and go back to Antarctica and the isolation of his chopper. John had to constantly remind himself that Rodney, and everybody else, were just doing their jobs. And he was supposed to be doing his_ own_ job…..

"Sheppard!"

Act normal, even if you don't feel that way, John said to himself. "I'm not here, Rodney, this is just a holographic projection. The real John Sheppard is surfing the Gold Coast in Australia."

"Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to yell." Whoosh, the sarcasm went sailing over McKay's head. "It's almost time for the meeting, you know, it's in 15 minutes. (Sheppard still looked vague.) "_Mission briefing_, we leave for M5M-811 in a few hours and I wanted to run something by you…Earth to Sheppard, hello?"

Sheppard shook himself out of his morning fog. "Yeah, I got it, McKay. Meeting. Usual stuff. More usual stuff. Off to the Gate Room and another exciting planet. Oh, do you think we'll need to take an umbrella?"

"Are you all right?"

"Of course I am, can't you take a joke, I just…." John griped. Then he paused, realizing that Rodney wasn't being hyper-sensitive. His friend was worried about him; McKay couldn't hide anything in those blue eyes.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," John replied cautiously. He didn't want to get into it right now. Lydia had said the same thing earlier and he had rebuffed her attempts to talk, too. "Just tired, you know, lots of stuff on my plate."

"You're still having the nightmares, aren't you?"

"Jeez, Rodney, give a man some privacy, I…" John stopped and then surprised himself by saying, "Yeah, uh, I am. But I can deal with it." Rodney stared at him, not believing him for one second, and giving John a chance to get that through his head.

John did. "Ok, ok, maybe I can't right now, but I'm sure they'll go away soon. Hey," he added, getting a little defensive, "how do you know about 'em, anyways?"

McKay was ready for him. "Well, for one thing, you look like crap today, and it's not the first time since you got back; two, if what happened to you had happened to me, I'd have nightmares for weeks; and three – 'a little bird told me'."

John sighed. "Lydia, Carson, or Jennifer," he ticked off. "Who ratted me out?"

"Teyla, actually."

"Oh, but how did she know, I haven't…" John started to say, and then answered his own question in his head. Of course it was Teyla. She could always read him; she had been able to do so since they first met. It was no surprise to John that she had been the leader of her people, and that now, on Atlantis, she was such an important part of his team. She listened, she observed, she spoke up when she felt it was appropriate and remained quiet when it wasn't. Teyla's empathetic nature and her intelligence, combined with, well, an ability to really kick butt had impressed John from the start. From early on, he had invested his respect and trust in her without question.

Which was why what happened the other day still bothered John so much. More and more, he had been going to the gym. He'd be lying to himself if he said it was just to train; he knew he needed to work off the anger and anxiety that his night-time walks couldn't exhaust. After returning from Earth, when he was well enough, Teyla had offered to meet a few times a week to work out; to regain his strength, she had said. John knew her true motives and appreciated it, was touched by it.

Usually their sessions were 'all business', with little talking. But on that particular day, he didn't know why, his frustrations had got the better of him. He couldn't focus; he didn't even want to be there. Teyla was coming at him, challenging him with moves that should have been easy to counter but were instead sending him to the floor more times than not. John had gotten up after a hard fall, picked up the bantos rod intending to start again, but instead had smashed it against the wall, splintering it. Teyla had quietly moved the broken wood out of the way, handed John a new rod, and stood ready to resume their workout. But John had had it. With a "Screw this!" he had turned to leave. But Teyla had quickly intercepted him.

"_John, I think it would be best if you stayed…"_

"_For what?" John cut her off. "So you can keep knocking me on my ass? Why don't you call Ronon, he can come and join the party!" He regretted his words the instant he said them. A pained look flitted across Teyla's face – was it for herself, or for him? Probably both._

"_My ancestors, the ones who the Wraith had experimented on, who were left with Wraith DNA…their lives were quite difficult…" Teyla began._

"_What has that got to do with…?!" John snapped._

_Teyla would not allow him to interrupt her. "They were frightened by their abilities, John. They were ostracized by their fellow Athosians. Some were killed, or took their own lives." _

"_The Wraith DNA that I have…I did not ask for it to be passed down to me. As you did not have a choice whether or not to inherit the Ancient gene."_

"_Teyla, I really don't…" John knew where she was heading with this, and didn't want to go there._

"_My ability is unique, John, as is yours – and it is also difficult to bear. As you must cede over a part of yourself to connect with the Chair or pilot a Jumper – or study a new object – so must I when I reach out to a Wraith. I can sense their presence, mentally connect with them while they are on a Hive, and even see through their eyes! – an amazing talent. But it is terrifying as well. You remember, years ago…the Wraith whose mind I had entered had detected me, and moved to control my mind instead. He mocked me, mocked our efforts to fight the Wraith. It was…unsettling…to lose control of my thoughts, to feel…violated, in a way. I feared, even, that he would take secrets from me, that I would betray Atlantis because I was too weak to stay in control."_

"_But you overcame his influence, Teyla. And even if he had managed to learn something, it…" John trailed off, detecting her gentle manipulation and the point of it all._

"_It would not have been my fault. I surely would have been troubled by it, felt guilty about it. But in the end, I would have realized that I did my best to resist, and that sometimes it is the enemy who is victorious, and not us."_

"_Teyla, I see your point, and I appreciate it." John conceded, as Teyla began to smile in relief. It was short-lived. "But…it's just not the same thing. The Wraith controlled you for, what, a few minutes? He…Nash…he used me because of my 'unique ability,' he hurt me, and the others, for days, he took so much away." John struggled to control his emotions. "People died and I couldn't do anything, I didn't do anything to stop him. And it's been weeks now, and I still can't live with it! If Carson could develop a therapy to take the damn gene out instead of the other way around, I'd be first in line to get it done." John was drained and exhausted. All he wanted was to get out of this room, out and away from Teyla, her compassion, her friendship, and the fact that, deep down, he knew she was right._

"_John, you did try, you fought as hard as you could, I know you did. You must not think…" she insisted._

"_But that's just it, Teyla. I do." John took the bantos rod and placed it, gently this time, against the wall. "I…I have to go, I can't do this right now." As he left, Teyla's heart filled with sadness as she wondered how, or if, she would be able to help her friend to heal._

"Sheppard, are you _sure_ you're ok? Because I really don't want to go on a mission if you're so spaced out you won't be able to shoot the Wraith, or whatever disgusting creature we'll run into this time, before it's about to kill me! McKay's gentle teasing brought John back to reality.

"I'm good to go, Rodney," said John, hoping his enthusiasm didn't sound too forced. "And, I _promise_ I'll kill whatever's after you…at least, before it does too much damage." At least his snarkiness was in good shape, John thought. He then headed off to the briefing, leaving an insulted Rodney in his wake. Man-eating aliens aside, John did hope M5M-811 was an interesting mission. He desperately needed something to bring him back to normal, make him care about his job, his life, about anything, again.

_**TBC…**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Aftermath: Finding His Way Again**

**Chapter 3**

_**Several weeks ago, while John and his team were still at SGC…**_

While John convalesced, and his friends awaited the next Daedalus trip back to Pegasus, the security and science departments tore apart Nash's facility. He had kept meticulous files, and SGC was poring over them with the proverbial fine-toothed comb. The workings of the machine would keep the staff busy for months. The other gene carriers were freed from their electronic hell, debriefed, and then taken home. SGC was desperately trying to determine if Nash had targeted any other business or political foes.

But what concerned John's friends the most were the digital video recordings. Nash had obsessively documented everything. The Atlantis team watched in horror and disgust as Nash divulged his plans in maniacal rants; as the three unconscious victims were bound to their chairs; and as John was integrated into the machine, convulsing, and with agonized screams that even the gag couldn't silence.

They promised themselves that John would never see those images, or even learn of their existence.

_**The Present – Mission Briefing on M5M-811…**_

Woolsey, Sheppard and his team were assembled in the main conference room for last-minute updates and preparations before going through the Gate. M5M-811 had been referenced in the Ancient database as the possible location of a facility which developed innovations in Ancient spacecraft. If it still existed, hopefully as intact as possible, who knew what they could learn? SGC was eager for Atlantis to check it out, and had requested that the mission be assigned to Sheppard's team.

"Gentlemen, and Teyla," Woolsey could be endearingly formal. "May I correctly assume that you have already sent a MALP through to check on Wraith activity? If we know about this site, it's plausible that the Wraith could as well, given what the Ancients supposedly developed there."

"A MALP went through two days ago and again early this morning. No Wraith, no Genii, nothing but your standard trees and grass and rocks, apparently. Oh, and something that looked like a large bear." Sheppard replied. Richard could have sworn that John was stifling back a yawn.

"A bear?! What kind? Like a grizzly, chase-you-up-a-tree-and-maul-you kind, or a nice, friendly Yogi Bear cartoon kind of bear?" said McKay apprehensively.

"_**I**_ don't know McKay," Sheppard retorted in exasperation. "And we won't know until we get there and give it a chance to either eat us or invite us over for a beer! And I said bear-_**like**_. For all I know, it could be as lovable as Bambi."

Despite John's logical, if sarcastic reply, Rodney remained doubtful.

"Who is 'Bambi'? asked Teyla in all seriousness.

"And what's a 'Yogi bear'?" Ronon added, sensing an opportunity to get a dig in at the Colonel's expense. "And what kind of animal drinks beer? You have weird animals on your planet, Sheppard." His eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Alright, alright, let's get back on topic, everyone." Woolsey felt his control of the meeting rapidly slipping away, and moved quickly to wrap things up. They were his best team, but sometimes…

"Before you head out, let me remind you that SGC is very interested about what you may find. That's why your team was selected – Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard, you both have particular experience with Ancient spacecraft technology."

"Oh, we'll be very thorough, Richard; don't want to disappoint the SGC and whoever their 'silent partners' are."

"Pardon?" Woolsey feigned ignorance; he knew what Sheppard was alluding to but wanted to hear him say it, just to be sure. He increasingly didn't like the 'vibes' that his military leader was giving off this morning, and it was bothering him.

"Our 'partners' in Corporate America. Oops, sorry, I guess that's confidential. Let's just hope they're more trustworthy than Nash Industries. Are we done here?" Sheppard then stood up quickly, giving Woolsey no chance to respond. "Come on, guys, let's get suited up." He left the room. His team-mates didn't follow immediately; instead they remained with Woolsey, feeling both embarrassed by and concerned about their friend's comments. When they finally did turn to leave, Woolsey stopped them with a wave.

"Please, come in and shut the door." Any trace of the meeting's previous levity had evaporated.

"I'll be blunt. After witnessing Sheppard's behavior right now, and the anger I think we all felt rolling off of him…Well, I am seriously considering suspending him from off-world duties until further notice. I would hate to do it, but it's not because of what happened just now. This was not an isolated incident. As his team, _as his friends,_ I'm sure you know that."

McKay answered for the three of them, in defense of John. "You're right, Richard. Sheppard's been, uh...he's been hurting lately, but who can blame him? What happened with Nash, it was…..really bad." Images of John's terrible suffering at Nash's hands flashed through his mind. "But I know he'll get past it, he's Sheppard, that's what he does." It sounded like Rodney was trying to convince both Woolsey AND himself that John would be ok.

Teyla then spoke up. "I agree that the Colonel has been struggling to recover from his experiences on Earth. But, like Rodney, I am confident that he will get through this difficult time."

Ronon nodded in agreement, his former playfulness replaced by a look of deep concern.

"I appreciate your confidence in, and loyalty to, Colonel Sheppard. But unless he can sort himself out – be it through counseling, going back to Earth for a vacation, whatever – I _**will**_ confine him to desk duty – and I'll get Dr. Keller and Dr. Beckett to back me up if necessary." With that, Woolsey ended the meeting.

_**A few hours later, on M5M-811…**_

"See McKay, no man-eating bears, er, bear-_like_ creatures. You got yourself worked up for nothing." Sheppard teased.

"Well, it wasn't exactly Bambi-like either, did you see those teeth?"

Teyla quickly interceded. Her patience was truly being tested today. "May I please suggest we focus on the task at hand? We are nearly at the Ancient facility."

The site loomed ahead of them. As they had hoped, the structure was at least standing and, on cursory examination, seemed intact. Rodney's attention was quickly diverted from unpleasant animal life to the data readout on his tablet.

"Uh, no life signs detected, Wraith or otherwise. I _**am**_ picking up some interesting energy readings, though."

"Interesting, as in, never seen before? Dangerous?" Sheppard probed.

"Oh, sorry. These are _good_ energy readings. I mean, we've found them at other Ancient scientific outposts on other worlds, so it's probably a sign of similar equipment being utilized across the various sites."

"Ok, then, let's move on in. McKay, you go in first with Ronon, _just_ to make sure your familiar, friendly energy readings stay that way. Teyla, you're with me."

Rodney advanced, tablet in hand. He detected nothing to suggest that the site was anything but benign. He and Ronon entered the building and signaled Sheppard and Teyla to do the same.

But as John and Teyla neared the entrance, McKay froze as his tablet began to display a slew of data. Suddenly, a piercing whine assaulted their ears. "Out, out, out!" cried Sheppard as he turned to grab Teyla and pull her away.

At the same time, a barrage of ice-blue orbs appeared out of nowhere. They hung in the air for an instant then drove towards their target – Teyla. She fell, struck again and again by the lethal force which for some reason ignored her companions. It was only when Sheppard threw himself over Teyla that the attack stopped. The orbs hovered over Sheppard for a moment then disappeared in a burst of light.

Unsure if the attack would resume, but frantic to help his friend, Sheppard moved off of her. She was bleeding from wounds to her back. He gently turned her over, and gasped in disbelief. Her abdomen and chest were also covered in blood. The orbs had burned her, gouged her. He felt for a pulse, struggling to find the correct spot on her neck; he found it but there was so much blood. McKay and Ronon tore into the medical supplies. They bound the wounds but could barely staunch the bleeding. Wrapping her in Ronon's coat, Sheppard lifted Teyla in his arms and began to run.

"Dial the Gate, dial the Gate!" Sheppard shouted as they reached the DHD. McKay pressed the symbols as fast as he could, and then transmitted his IDC. "Medical team to the Gateroom NOW!" he demanded. Once the shield was lowered, they plunged into the event horizon.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooo

"No, no, no, Teyla, stay with me, stay with me!" Sheppard sat on the floor of the Gate Room, holding Teyla tight in his arms even as medical personnel clambered to get at her. The area in front of the Gate was slick with blood. The orbs had been merciless: she was bleeding to death. "This is not happening, no, no, no. Teyla! Come on, Teyla, stay with me, please, please…" Sheppard murmured. The Gate Room suddenly grew quiet as the attempts to revive her ceased. Nothing more could be done. Ronon and McKay stood frozen in shock. Sheppard grasped Teyla even tighter in his arms, and began to rock slowly back and forth.

People cautiously approached, hoping to gently draw Sheppard away and allow Teyla's body to be cared for. But as they neared him, something happened. The atmosphere in the Gate Room suddenly became…charged, and the air grew thick as if a summer storm was advancing. Ribbons of light, like the veins of a leaf, began coursing down the walls and across the floor. The streams increased in number and seemed to weave into a fine mesh. McKay looked over at John. He still clung to their friend, but now he was sitting up straight, his eyes wide and staring, his face intent with purpose. The fabric of light rippled and flowed towards Teyla. When it reached her, it moved to cover her body. Its brilliant filaments seemed to infuse themselves into her, threading deep through her wounds. After moments…minutes? the light receded like a tide and slowly blinked out.

Sheppard slumped to the floor, unconscious, and Teyla…began to breathe.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooo

John awoke slowly. As he opened his eyes, he saw his friends sitting by the infirmary bed, like so many times before.

"What happened?" he groaned. Then in an awful instant it all came rushing back to him. "Teyla, oh god, she…"

"John, it's ok, it's ok. Teyla, somehow, she's _alive_." McKay helped as John struggled to sit up.

"Yeah, she is, isn't she?" John said in a daze as Rodney looked on worriedly. Was John speaking to himself or to them?

"Sheppard, I think you…" McKay started again. "_**You**_ did that, John, didn't you? With your gene." It was a statement more than a question. Rodney already knew it was the incredible truth.

John struggled to find the words. "I don't know," he finally said, in a voice not much above a whisper. "I…I was just there, holding her. She was gone, and I couldn't bear it. Then I felt as if I could do something about it, bring her back, if I really tried."

"And you did," McKay said in awe. "John, it was like when people are full of adrenaline, they can lift a car off of someone if they have to! But instead, with you, in the midst of a crisis you reached deep down inside and found a strength you never knew you had, by using your gene and, I think, connecting with the City. The energy, the life force I guess you could call it – what came pouring from the walls and floor, it had to have been drawn from Atlantis herself."

John could do little more than nod at Rodney in agreement. Teyla was alive. Why? They could figure that out later.

Soon he was at Teyla's bedside. She was pale and weak, but otherwise showed no signs of the wounds which had devastated her body.

"Teyla, I…" John broke down, unable to continue; tears were threatening to pour down his face.

"I will be alright, John. Please tell me you will be alright as well?" She was doing it again, putting the needs of others ahead of her own.

John found his voice again. "McKay…he said it was because of your Wraith DNA, that's why the orbs went after you. It was an automatic defense response by the facility, in case it was ever breached by the Wraith. Rodney's equipment didn't detect it until it was activated, but by then it was too late. I tried to push you out of the way, but…"

"It was an accident, John, one we could not have anticipated. Ronon told me that you risked your life to protect me." She paused for effect. "Please do not feel responsible."

"It is because of you, John, and your Ancient gene, that I am alive," Teyla continued with a delicate smile. "I know you are confused now and in shock, but can you appreciate what this means? It is an affirmation, John, of what I said to you in the gym. We did not ask for our abilities. They are terribly _and_ wondrously powerful, and we must learn to live with them and accept, whether we want to or not, what they bring to our lives and the lives of others."

_**That evening…**_

Lydia heard John get up in the night. Another lonely walk, she thought. Would he ever find peace? Then he surprised her by reaching for her hand and saying "Come with me." Hurriedly grabbing some clothes, she followed.

He led her to the Chair room. "This is where I first learned I had the gene," John said. "Well, I mean, a Chair like it in Antarctica." Lydia had heard the story before. Staring up at him, she was startled to see that John looked happy, happy like a little kid. He sat down, and the Chair hummed in recognition. John closed his eyes and thought, and the Milky Way gleamed above them. "I can _really do that_," he said in wonder. "Pretty cool, huh?"

The End.

_**Let's hope that John has found his way! Thank you for reading and reviewing.**_


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